Fatherhood
by varietyofwords
Summary: The birth of Betsy and Kelso taking on the role of father has gotten Hyde thinking about fatherhood.
1. 1979

Title: **Fatherhood**

Chapter Title: **1979**

Fandom: **That '70's Show**

Coupling: **Jackie/Hyde**

Rating: **K+**

Author's Note: **Cheesy? Probably. But tomorrow is Father's Day (in the US) and the plot bunnies just wouldn't detach their fangs until I typed this little ditty up. I have a rough outline of where this (short) story could go so let me know what you think. **

Normally after they make love (she refuses to call it anything other than making love), he'll light up a joint and roll his eyes as she snuggles up against him. He's not the type of guy that cuddles after sex but it is hard to resist a chick pressing her naked body up against you. She'd usually steal the joint from him after a while with a smirk on her lips, and sometimes he'd run his fingers through her long locks. Not enough to make her expect it, but he'll do it every once and a while.

But tonight he lies there stiff as a board. She presses into him, tries to engage him in the here and now through her touch. She steals the joint with a smirk but he does nothing to stop her – doesn't even grunt his dissatisfaction. She wonders if he's angry with what just happened between them but she dismisses the thought quickly because, after all, she's Jackie Burkhart. And nobody is dissatisfied after making love with her.

There is barely enough room to roll away from him because the cot they share is unbearably small. She rolls onto her back and snuffs out the joint on the ashtray on the floor. By the time she rolls back over to face him, he's got his sunglasses back on.

"Steven," she snaps because he knows the rule – no sunglasses during sex.

"Whatever," he replies. She sighs and flops down next him. There isn't enough room in the cot for the both of them and her movements jostle the rickety frame of his bed.

"Jackie!"

"It's not my fault this bed is so small! If you had just left your room the way I decorated it, we wouldn't have this problem."

"No, we'd just be gettin' high off your damn scented candles."

"You loved those candles, Steven," she reminds him sharply. "You said they made you feel like Laura Ingalls."

"Whatever," he repeats as he rolls away from her.

She snatches the sheet and pulls it tightly against her body as she slides out of bed. She gropes around for her clothes; he stripped them off her so quickly that she's not sure where they landed. Her inability to find her clothes impedes her trademarked stomp, cry, and hasty departure, which frustrates her even further because she hates letting him see her cry.

Real tears not the ones she pulls out when she wants him to do something for her.

She pulls on her jeans quickly and sneaks a look over her shoulder to look at him. He's still staring at the ceiling seemingly unaffected by her impending departure. She wants to say something; she wants to be Zen. Instead, she slips her arm through the sleeves of her top and pulls it over her head as she stumbles towards the door.

"Jackie," he starts and she pauses despite herself. "You'd tell me if you got pregnant, right?"

"What?" She cries incredulously as she whips around to face him He's sitting up in bed now; the blanket bunched around his waist.

"Did those shanks on the cheerleading squad tell you I'm pregnant? 'Cause I'm not. I learned my lesson with Michael, and I take my birth control religiously."

There's a slight flinch at the mention of her ex-boyfriend's name but he doesn't say anything in response.

"Steven, I am not pregnant!" She yells back at him fuming over the idea that someone would trying to ruin her reputation and relationship with such a nasty rumor.

"But you'd tell me if you were, right?" He asks again softly.

"Duh," she replies saucily. "You ruin my life? I ruin yours."

He nods his head slowly in response as an uncomfortable silence passes over them.

"Steven, did Julie" she starts before he interrupts.

"Cause, you know, I'd stick around. Even… even if it didn't work out between us... if there was a kid involved in, I'd be there for him. Or her."

"I know," she says softly.

"Cause I know…," he tries to assure her but struggles to find his voice. "I know…I had a shitty dad who was never around and I know what that's like. I'd step up. I wouldn't be like Kelso."

"Is that what this is about?" She asks as she sinks down onto the bed next to him. "Steven, you are nothing like Michael. And I am nothing like Brooke. First of all, I wouldn't let you get off as easy as she's letting Michael off. You'd be changing all our baby's diapers for one thing. And second of all, I would not get pregnant in a bathroom. Let alone at a public bathroom at a Molly Hatchet concert. Eww!"

He smirks at her response because he knows how much she actually likes public places. The smack on his chest lets him know that she knows exactly what he's thinking.

"Shut up," she growls and he smirks again.

Silence passes between them briefly before he – for once, she thinks to herself – initiates the conversation again.

"I'm not going to be like Bud. Or like W.B. I'd be there for our kid."

"You just said our kid!" She squeals. "You wanna have kids with me! Which means you wanna marry me!"

"No, I didn't," he's quick to amend.

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You said you'd be there for our kid, Steven. You want to be there for little Jackie Junior!"

He grimaces at the idea of little Jackie Junior. Or maybe just at the idea of having kids. (Although he clearly wants them with her. His words. Not hers.) She can't really tell.

"How about Little Beulah?" He teases. She frowns immediately.

"Steven, we are not naming our future beautiful daughter that horrible name!" She snaps at him after she jumps off the bed so she can face him. She glares at him so he understands that she means business.

"I don't know, Jacks. I kind of like the name Beul—"

His statement is interrupted by a swift kick to his shins.

"Jackie!" He snaps. "What did I tell you about kicking me?"

"What did I tell you about mentioning that horrible name around me?" She snaps back. "It's Jackie Burkhart until you decide to finally marry me at which point I will be Jackie Hyde."

He groans in frustration because he slipped up and now she's going to keep babbling about getting married until his ears start to bleed.

"This is a marriage-free zone, Jackie," he reminds her forcefully as he gestures around the room.

"Fine," she snaps as she flounces towards the door. "I'm going to Donna's because I can talk about weddings all I want over there."

"Fine," he snaps back as she slams the door. With a sigh, he stands up and starts pulling back on his jeans. Just as he's zipping up his fly, the door opens again and feels someone's arms snake around his waist.

"Steven," she says softly, "you are a much better man than Bud or W.B. And you will make a much better father."


	2. 1984

**Title:** Fatherhood

**Chapter Title:** 1984

**Words:** 1,218

**Fandom:** That '70's Show

**Coupling:** Jackie/Hyde

**Rating:** T

**Author's Note:** I appreciate the reviews (and corrections) so thank you for all of those! Couple of things to bring to your attention: (1) I had to increase the rating due to a change in the language at certain points. (2) I also strongly urge you to pay attention to the chapter titles as this (short) story is going to be a series of strung together one-shots. The chapter titles correspond with the year in which the particular story is taking place so you'll have a better idea of the timeline. (3) Finally, the doves mentioned in here actually happened at a wedding I attended in Minnesota. Not a pretty sight.

He should have known that after he married her she would find something else to harp on him about. Married less than three months and she started bringing up them having a kid or two. Or four.

Four, man!

He choked on his beer when she dropped that bombshell. Almost asphyxiated when she raddled off the four – vapid, girly, cheerleader – names she's picked for the four girls they were going to have. Donna, the only one strong enough out of the group, whammed on his back to help him clear his airway.

"_Uh, Jackie," Eric said slowly. "You know there's a fifty-fifty chance you could have a boy, right?"_

"_Please," she replied. "Steven knows better than to give me a boy."_

He sighs as he drops the used condom into the trashcan next to the sink in the bathroom off their bedroom. He scratches the beginning ofa beard as he stares at himself in the mirror above the sink. He knows what's going to happen when he slips in bed next to her and doesn't really want to have _that _conversation with her again. But she's all warm and inviting and he can't help but want to visit Tahiti.

He slides back into bed next to her and she sidles up next to him. He knows it's coming even before she lays her head on his shoulder and stares up at him with those damn mismatched doe eyes.

"You know," she says sweetly, "you can stop wearing those."

"Not until you start taking your birth control pills again," he stoically replies.

"Steven," she whines.

"Jackie," he warns as he really doesn't want to start into this with her. Again.

"Please, Steven," she begs with a pout.

"No."

"Why not? We're married! Remember, first comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes baby in –"

"We're not dictating our lives based on some stupid rhyme."

Hooking her leg over his, she shifts so she's on her stomach, perched on her elbows, and staring down at him.

"But, Puddin' Pop," she whines.

"No, Jackie. We're not ready for kids. I'm still paying for your damn doves."

"That's not my fault," she snaps at him as she pushes herself into the sitting position. Her pink underwear peeks out from under the top of her flannel pajamas, and his eyes are immediately drawn down there. "How was I supposed to know it was migratory season for hawks?"

"Each damn dove cost five-hundred dollars, Jackie! And I still had to pay the fee for releasing them in the first place."

"That wasn't my fault," she screeches.

"Well, it was a damn costly mistake," he reminds her as reaches for his lighter. It ignites on the second try but he barely gets one drag in before she steals it for herself. He arches an eyebrow at her; a sort of silent reminder that she wouldn't be able to do that anymore if she has her way.

"Whatever," she replies as she sidles back up to him. She finds that spot on his shoulder where resting her head feels so damn comforting, feels so much like home. They don't say anything for awhile and just pass the joint between them as a way to pass the time before he has to leave for work.

"Steven," she whispers and he knows based on her tone that she's going to ask again. "Can we please have – "

"Dammit, Jackie," he groans as he pulls himself from her embrace and stumbles out of bed. He pulls on his jeans and grabs a clean concert t-shirt off the pile of his clothes by the closet doors.

(His clothes were relegated to that particular spot on the day they moved in as her clothes take up all of the space in their closet and the dresser he borrowed without asking from the Formans' basement. Any money they could have used to purchase another dresser goes towards paying for her damn doves. Or for the clothes and shoes she just has to have.)

"Where are you going?" She demands as she slips out of bed to follow him.

"Out," he snaps as he wrenches the door to their bedroom open and steps out into their small living room.

"Fine. Leave," she replies sharply with her arms crossed over her chest before her voice drops an octave. "Do what you do best, Steven Hyde."

He flinches. Pauses but takes another step forward and another.

"If you sleep…if you nail…I will never," she starts to threaten him until the fear washes over her and her threats turn to anguish. "Please. Don't..."

He stops dead in his tracks. Turns around. Glares at her.

"I'm not gonna go out and nail some chick just 'cause we got in a fight," he spits out, disgusted that she would accuse him.

"Why not?" She scoffs. "You did it before. Skanky nurse. Whorey Sam."

"You got your claws in me now; got my ring on your finger, doll," he reminds her. "And I ain't gonna do that."

"I just…if we had a baby…" She starts, stepping towards him.

"Jackie, we're not ready. Look at us! Fightin' again. And you're assuming I'm going to go out a screw some –"

"I wouldn't have to worry about that if we had a baby!" She interrupts.

"What?"

"You said…You said you'd stick around if there was a baby involved and…"

"Jacks," he starts. Pauses. "That's why you want us to have a kid?"

"No," she replies, but he doesn't believe her for a damn second.

"A baby wouldn't keep us together, okay? A baby couldn't keep Bud and Edna together. Couldn't keep your folks together. Couldn't keep Donna's parents together. Only thing that's going to keep you and me together is us."

"And we did such a fantastic job of it the last three times," she snaps back.

"All the more reason not to add a kid to this."

"You don't think this is going to end like last time, do you?"

He shrugs because he hasn't got an answer for her. He married her, didn't he? And he knows he's got no plans to drive off and screw the next chick he finds. Isn't that enough of an answer?

"No, Steven, a shrug is not going to cut it. Do you not want a baby because you think we're gonna get divorced?"

"I don't know," he replies because, honestly, their track record isn't that great. She gasps and her face crumbles and he knows she's going to cry.

"We've been married for less than a year," he reminds her. "Can't we just try to get that right?"

"You think we're going to get divorced," she repeats slowly like she doesn't believe the words she's saying.

"Jackie," he interrupts. "I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Maybe not with words but I know what 'I don't know' means, Steven Hyde, and it means nothing good."

"Look, Jackie," he replies. "When you and I got back together, I told you I wasn't ready to get married yet but that I'd marry you someday. And I did, didn't I? All I'm sayin' is that we're not – I'm not ready to have a kid, yet."

"Yet?" She repeats with hope – or maybe its tears – shining in her eyes.

"Yet," he reiterates.


	3. 1986

**Title:** Fatherhood

**Chapter Title:** 1986

**Words:** 1,696

**Fandom:** That '70's Show

**Coupling:** Jackie/Hyde

**Rating:** T/PG-13

**Author's Note:** Thanks again for the reviews! I was asked in a review if there is another story in this fandom with the same name. I never once looked and apparently there is. This happens a lot in the world of FanFiction (and even in the publishing world), and I'm honestly at a lost at what else to call this little fic.

Seven-year-old Betsy Kelso's jaw drops in surprise as her opponent's brightly colored, plastic gingerbread man game piece slides across the second bridge on the board game putting her closer to the end. Her aunt squeals in delight while her uncle shakes his head.

"But," the little girl sputters.

"Betsy, let me tell you a little secret," her uncle replies. "Your Aunt Jackie cheats."

"I do not!" Jackie retorts from her spot on the couch.

"You see, Bets," Hyde continues. "That's the reason why none of us play board games with Aunt Jackie."

"But you play other games with her, right, Uncle Hyde?" Betsy asks.

"Huh?" Hyde asks.

"Daddy says you and Aunt Jackie like to play games together in there," she replies gesturing to the entrance of his old room. "He says I can't play with you 'cause your games are just for you and Aunt Jackie."

A blush colors Jackie's cheeks, and Hyde smirks before taking another swig of beer.

"Uncle Hyde, what games are you playin'?"

"Uh," Hyde stumbles not quite sure what to say. His saving grace is the clip-clap of someone's high heels on the wooden stairs into the basement.

"Betsy," Brooke's melodic voice calls out. "Come upstairs. Grandma Kitty wants your help with the pumpkin pie."

The little girl jumps up from her seat on the floor and races towards her mother. Making the pumpkin pie is her favorite part of Thanksgiving. Her Aunt Jackie moves to stand up and follow her goddaughter's lead saying something about helping out.

"No!" The simultaneous response from Brooke and Hyde echoes throughout the basement. Jackie even thinks she might have heard Mrs. Foreman yell out her own forceful 'No'. She raises her eyebrow at her husband's and friend's response.

"Uh, that's okay, Jackie," Brooke is quick to amend. "We need you down here to, uh…"

She stumbles for a reason and glances at her husband's best friend for help. Hyde rests his beer can on his jean-clad knee taking a moment to come up with a good lie.

"Uh, to give us your opinion on the parade and the, uh, costumes," he replies gesturing to the annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade currently playing on the television across from the couch.

"Yeah," Brooke agrees enthusiastically. "You have the best fashion sense out of all of us so we need you to watch the parade and tell us which groups have the best costumes."

"Oh, of course," Jackie agrees with a smile and sinks back on the couch to watch. Brooke smiles back hesitantly before hastily following her daughter up the stairs to join her and Mrs. Forman in the kitchen. Taking another swig of beer, Hyde's attention is directed back to the television at Jackie's shriek of 'What were they thinking?'.

An hour and a half later, Hyde's got his arm casually draped over his wife's shoulder as they stand on the stairs watching their friends mull around the living room trying to sneak at peek at the place cards Mrs. Forman's setting out. Everyone wants to know who's sitting at the kids' table and who's going to get their own roll at Thanksgiving dinner.

It's a given that Fez and Laurie will be sitting at the kids' table with Betsey; Mr. Forman has never forgiven them for their green card marriage. Kelso will probably be relegated to the kids' table as well just because Mr. Forman doesn't like him. Brooke, too, because somebody has to keep an eye on Kelso and Betsy.

"What the hell?" Eric's squeaky voice cuts across the room as Mrs. Forman sets one of the last two place cards down at the adults' table. "Mom, how could you pick Hyde and Jackie over me and Donna?"

"Because we win at everything!" Jackie replies with a smirk as she grabs Hyde's hand and drags him down the stairs to claim her rightful spot at the adults' table.

"But, Mom!" Eric whines.

"Well, Eric, your father decided that it was Jackie and Steven's turn to sit here," she replies.

"But Donna and I are so adult. We graduated from college. We got married," Eric stammers out. "We're having a baby!"

"Eric," Donna yells from her spot across the room. "We were supposed to tell everyone together!"

"A grandbaby?" Kitty asks with excitement bubbling over before she scampers off into the kitchen. "Red, a grandbaby!"

In between all the excitement and their friends' expressions of congratulations, Hyde feels Jackie stiffen beside him. She drops his hand, starts to sink into herself just as everyone in the group turns to them expecting the two to add their own congratulations. When Jackie doesn't say anything, he steps up and adds his own words to the chorus.

"Congrats, man," he tells Eric with a rise of his beer bottle. "Donna, didn't think you'd ever let him do that."

He doesn't get to hear Donna's response, though, as Jackie's hasty departure grabs both his and her attention.

"What's wrong with her?" Kelso cries. With a sigh, Hyde hands Fez his half-empty beer bottle and pushes open the swinging door.

"Bring me a full one, you son of a bitch!" Fez calls after him as the door swing shut behind him. Mrs. Forman and Brooke's attention is pulled from the scene outside the kitchen's sliding glass door as they turn to look at him with concern etched across their faces. He walks past them without saying a word but can't help but chuckle at the look of extreme discomfort Red has on his face.

"Steven," Red barks as the sliding door opens. "Get your wife off me!"

The older man squirms in discomfort trying to extract himself from Jackie's death grip. He groans with unhappiness as Jackie buries her face further into the older man's coat. She's shaking from the cold, which is understandable since she ran out with her coat, and from her tears, which she doesn't want anyone to see. Hyde's hand snakes across her back and she turns to slip into his embrace.

He waits until he hears the sliding door slam shut behind Mr. Forman before saying something but she was apparently waiting for the same signal as she beats him to it.

"I'm sor—," she starts to whisper before he cuts her off.

"Don't," he replies. "You can be upset, doll."

She shakes her head no and pulls her face away from his chest. Tears streak her face and he reaches up to brush one away.

"I don't want to ruin your shirt," she tells him softly.

"Don't matter to me. It's just a shirt," he reminds her. She scoffs at his reply because it's a nice shirt and she hates at how he never cares about the clothes she buys him.

"Steven, it'll ruin the fabric."

"Whatever," he replies pulling her back into his embrace. She remains there for only a few more minutes. The cold November air causes her to shiver and he doesn't want her to stay out there for much longer.

"Let's go back inside," he mumbles into her hair.

"I don't…they're going to think I'm crazy."

"Trust me," he replies. "They already think that."

His burn drifts away with the cold breeze without a retort.

"You know what the doctor said," he reminds her. "Just need to keep tryin'. Only been six months, doll."

"And how long you think it took Eric and Donna? One try? Brooke got pregnant from a one-night stand in a bathroom!"

He doesn't know what to say to that. What do you say to your wife when she compares your ability to knock her up to that of her ex-boyfriend? That you're sorry you're such a failure of a man? That you're sorry you can't give her what she wants? That she would have been better off with him?

"I…" he starts and pauses trying to find the words. "I love you."

"I know," she replies softly. "I love you, too."

"I'm tryin'," he informs her. "Just have patience."

She scoffs because she's Jackie Burkhart and patience is not her middle name.

"Do you know me?" She cries out. "When I want something, I want it now."

And that scares him because he knows how much her impatience has wrecked their relationship in the past. But in the past he's had the ability to give her what she wants and this time he can't.

"If it doesn't happen," he starts but she cuts him off with a soft kiss to his jaw line. Then another his lips.

"Puddin' Pop," she whispers softly against his lips.

"Jackie. Steven," Mrs. Forman interrupts from the back porch. There's hesitation behind her eyes but a smile on her lips. "Dinner's ready."

He nods his head and tells her they'll be inside in just a moment. Mrs. Forman hesitates but eventually steps back into the house and closes the door behind her with a sharp click. She pulls out of his embrace and moves to fix her hair and straighten her dark green dress.

"I must look like a mess," she mumbles and he taps his index finger to her chin. She glances up at him with mismatched eyes brilliantly offset by her dress.

"Nah," he replies and she smiles before turning to walk into the house. She gets less than halfway when his voice makes her stop.

"You sure you want to go back in there? I'm not opposed to going home and doing it instead."

"And give up my seat at the adult table? Steven, we get our own rolls!"

She doesn't want for her reply just flounces back into the Forman's house towards the holy grail of seating for Forman family functions. He shrugs his shoulders and follows behind her. He stops in the kitchen to pull out another beer out of the fridge. Cracking it open, he pushes open the door in time to see Jackie giving Donna a hug and telling her congratulations.

"Hey, Forman," he says as Jackie moves back to her own seat. "Havin' a baby and still can't get a seat at the adult table, huh?"

"Burn!" Kelso yells from his spot next to Eric at the kids' table.


	4. 1989

**Title:** Fatherhood

**Chapter Title:** 1989

**Words:** 1,211

**Fandom:** That '70's Show

**Coupling:** Jackie/Hyde

**Rating:** T/PG-13

**Author's Note:** Apologies for the delay. I was on the wrong end of a washed out road in Yellowstone National Park and had to take a four hour detour to get home. Thanks again for all the reviews and story alerts! I've been blown away by how much attention this story has been getting. Oh, and creative license on some of the legal mumbo jumbo, okay?

He knows the steps to this dance by heart.

After slipping out of his embrace, she will shut the door to the bathroom with a soft click. He'll hear her rumbling through the cabinets to her stash in the back that she doesn't think he knows about; hear water come out of the faucet as she tries to cover what she's doing. The toilet will flush and then he'll count to one hundred and twenty before he'll hear the gasp of air, the sound of her body being racked with sobs. And then he'll hear the slide of the shower curtain and her turning on the shower.

He will wait awhile longer before getting out of bed and shuffling to the bathroom. He'll palm himself through his gray sweatpants while trying to open the bathroom door. It will be locked.

It is always locked during these mornings.

He'll pick the lock with the bobby pin he keeps stashed above the door frame, open the door, and step into the bathroom. He will pull down his sweatpants and in one fluid motion will step out of them, kick them over to join her discarded pajamas. He will pull back the shower curtain and watch her try to turn into the stream so he will think the tears running down her face are just water droplets from the showerhead.

But he will know better.

There will be the tale tell shake of her shoulders as she tries to control herself. There will be his hands on her waist pulling her into him. There will be her head tucked under his chin. There will be the two of them standing there trying to wash away all of their disappointment.

It's a dance they've been doing for the past three years. A dance they don't talk about.

They don't talk about how he wanted to punch the realtor for saying that the house's spare bedroom could be a nursery. They don't talk about the baby clothes she stashes in the closet of the spare bedroom. They don't talk about the crack in her voice and the tears in her eyes when she overheard a sixteen-year-old girl buying music at Grooves bitch to her friends about her terrible pregnancy-induced heartburn.

They don't talk about it with Donna or Eric or anybody else in their gang when they shoot them looks of pity as nine-year-old Betsy Kelso demands Jackie teach her how to put on makeup or two-year-old Luke Forman tries to climb into Hyde's lap. They sure as hell don't talk about the pamphlets Kitty Forman slips into Jackie's purse or Hyde's coat pocket every time they stop by her house. And they definitely do not talk about it during dinner at the Formans' even when Kitty brings it up like she did two months ago.

"_Jackie," Kitty said from her place at the head of the dining room table. The brunette turned her attention from the peas she had been pushing across her plate to Kitty. "Did you take a look at those pamphlets I put in your purse? There's a lot of information in there about sexual positions…"_

"_Kitty!" Red snapped at his wife. _

"_Red, this is important," she replied. "Jackie might not be tilting her vagina –"_

"_For God's sake," Red snapped dropping his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter. "I don't want to hear about that while I'm eating!" _

"_Yeah, Mom," Eric interjected. "I don't really want to hear about the She-Devil's lady parts." _

_Kitty frowned glancing from her son to her husband to the man she has considered her son for years now. She wanted to say something more, wanted to offer some words of advice or support or something but her red-headed daughter-in-law beat her to it. _

"_Have you thought about adoption?" Donna asked from her spot across the table from Hyde. It's another question they don't talk about and if Jackie had been sitting across the table from her, she would have offered a sharp kick to the shin. Neither of them offered up an answer to those waiting for an answer and it fell upon Red to provide an answer. _

"_They can't," he replied before shoveling another mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. _

"_Why not?" Kitty cried angered both over her husband's answer and the fact that he knew the answer while she didn't. Nobody told her that Hyde had approached her husband for a character reference five months ago because, honestly, people are more inclined to take Red's word rather than hers. She is, after all, a bit of a lush. "Oooh, you could rehabilitate a broody teenager just like we did!"_

"_Kitty," Red warned but Kitty keeps babbling on about how made-for-the-movies a situation like that would be – the former burnout rehabilitating a new burnout. _

"_I've got a record, okay?" Hyde interrupted. "They won't give a baby to a guy like me."_

That was the end of that conversation. They had finished their dinner in silence, eaten dessert in silence. She has slipped away without a taking a bite of pie saying something about having work to finish up for tomorrow's broadcast. Then, when the awkward silence became too unbearable, he had walked the block and a half down the street to the house they share. That night he apologized the only way he knows how – multiple orgasms and a whispered 'I love you' against the smooth skin of her shoulder.

This morning – the morning of Red's annual Veterans Day barbeque – he holds her tight trying to stave off the disappointment. He doesn't want to do this dance any more.

He may outweigh her, out muscle her, but she's surprisingly quick and agile and he groans at the sound of bathroom door locking behind her. He waits to hear her usual reaction, waits for the anticipated tears to begin.

But he is completely jolted by her scream.

(He may be a Zen Master but he can't resist her tears. Or her screams. He'd never admit it but she's got her claws into him, and he can no longer block out the sound of her voice and notice only her body in that glorious coconut bikini. It's what six years of marriage and five years of dating does to a man. Or at least that's what he tells himself.)

"Steven! Steven!" She's yelling so loudly that he flinches at the volume. If he wasn't sitting up in bed, he would have pulled a pillow over his head to muffle the sounds. "Look! Look!"

She bounds over to him; literally seems to bounce her way onto the bed and next to him. She's waving a white stick in one hand, and her eyes are sparkling with unshed tears. Without even letting him actually take a look, she kisses him so softly, so sweetly that not even he can quibble with her thrusting a urine covered piece of plastic under his nose.

"It's positive!" She squeals. He grabs her hand to make her hold still so he can take a look for himself. She's had "positives" before; super pale pink lines that amounted to nothing more than her eyes playing tricks on her. But this pink is bright and bold.

Like hot pink bright and bold.


	5. 1989 & 1990

**Title:** Fatherhood

**Chapter Title:** 1989/1990

**Words:** 1,603

**Fandom:** That '70's Show

**Coupling:** Jackie/Hyde

**Rating:** T/PG-13

**Author's Note:** For some reason, writing the group is really difficult for me so it took me a while to get this chapter out. Let me know your thoughts. They're sustaining me through the horror that is calculus. Happy Canada Day to my Canadian readers! And an early Happy Independence Day to my American readers!

Five hours to go before the beginning of the next decade, and Steven Hyde did not expect to spend the last day of this decade working at Grooves. A decade ago, Hyde would have been just like his two employees – showing up at work with a hangover from celebrating the last day of 1989. But all of Jackie's doctor appointments and the baby crap she just has to buy are getting expensive and Hyde's hand is being forced. Hard to do inventory when your employees can't even count to ten so he has to become less of a "cool" boss and create a rule of no drinking or smoking before noon.

The new rule is putting his employees on edge. It's putting him on edge too.

No surprise that he walked into the basement with a glare fixed on his face. The slam of the basement door interrupts the debate Forman, Donna, Kelso, and Fez were having about whatever is on television. They all watch silently as Hyde walks across the room and glares at the man currently occupying his chair.

"Kelso," Steven growls. "Move!"

"It's a free country," Kelso replies smugly and wiggles his body in a display of him marking his territory. His smug grin is wiped off his face, however, when Hyde's fist connects with his shoulder.

"Ow!" Kelso cries out as he falls off the chair and onto the floor. "Hyde, what the hell, man?"

Without a word, he sits down on his chair and folds his arms across his chest. Kelso stalks off the freezer and grabs a popsicle with a huff.

"Alright, red!" He says excitedly, and Hyde just shakes his head in response. The slam of the door reverberates around the room and although nobody noticed the door opening in the first place, the slammer certainly has the group's attention now.

He watches his wife from behind his sunglasses with amusement. She's so angry that he's surprised smoke isn't coming out of her ears.

"Isn't anybody going to ask me what's wrong?" She demands of the group. They all look at one another to see who wants to actually ask this loaded question.

"She's your best friend," Eric whispers to his wife from his place on the couch in the parents' basement next to her.

"She's his wife," Donna replies pointing to the guy occupying the chair next to her. Hyde doesn't dare jump on that grenade.

"Oh, whatever," Jackie snaps tired of waiting for someone to ask her. She stomps over to the edge of couch and glares at everyone in the room.

"Your baby," Jackie huffs gesturing to her rounded belly, "won't cooperate."

Furrowed eyebrows are her only response from the group as a whole, but Hyde cracks a smirk.

"Definitely my kid, man."

"Steven!" She replies unhappily. "How are we supposed to plan the baby's room when she won't prove that she's a girl?"

"Or that "she's" a boy," Eric interjects earning a glare from the pregnant woman next to him. "And there's the She-Devil we all know and love."

"Shut up," Jackie snaps at him before turning her attention back to Hyde.

"Steven," she whines as she walks in front of the couch to stand in front of him. Her belly comes right at his eye level but he doesn't crane his neck in order to look up at her and misses her pout. "Make her cooperate."

There are snorts from around the room at her demand.

"Jackie," Donna interjects. "Like Hyde said, that's his kid and when has Hyde ever cooperated?"

"I got him to marry me, didn't I?"

"You just about had to pull him down the aisle," Donna reminds her.

"Oh, whatever," Jackie snaps as she sinks down into Hyde's lap. In the past, his hand would rest on her ass or just below her hip bone (his thumb lightly stroking the bone) but now his hand rests on her side at the start of her belly.

"Aw," Eric starts but glares from both Jackie and Hyde and his mother shouting down the basement stairs that dinner's ready interrupts his taunting.

With the hands on the clock getting closer to midnight, the Foremans' party is still going on upstairs but the topic of conversation has shifted to heartburn and stretch marks and cribs. Red slipped out to the garage over an hour ago, and the conversation exiled Hyde and friends back down to the basement. He's sitting in a circle with Kelso, Fez, and Forman. There's no haze in the room due to the sleeping child next to Eric on the couch, but each one of them is clutching a beer.

"End of an era, man," Hyde says before taking a chug of beer.

"Yeah," Eric replies before cracking a wide grin. "Who'd have thought you and Kelso would be married? I mean, it's you and Kelso."

"You lucky sons of bitches," Fez mumbles with a shake of his head.

"Married? Man, that's nothing," Kelso replies. "I've got a baby!"

"I'm not a baby!" Ten-year-old Betsy shouts from her place on the floor next to her father's lawn chair. The toys her father bought her for Christmas and hauled up from Chicago for her to play with are spread out in front of him. Stacked next to her are the library books her mom helped her checked out for their trip up to Point Place, and with a dramatic huff she goes back to reading about the adventures of Jo Marsh.

"Betsy," her father says, "don't you wanna play with these awesome toys?"

He picks one up to offer it to her but gets distracted and starts playing with the toy himself.

"Those toys are for babies," she replies haughtily before sticking her nose back into her book.

"Burn!" Eric shouts but cringes when his son begins to stir. Luckily, Luke just rolls over and continues to sleep. His relief is evident and a quick glance around the room shows him just how thankful everyone is that Luke kept sleeping. Donna's wrath knew no bounds the last time Eric woke the kid up.

"Hyde's gonna have a baby!" Kelso reminds the group although his tone makes it seem like that fact just dawned on him. "And Jackie's the new Jugs A Poppin'!"

"Betsy," Hyde says to his goddaughter. Without looking up from her book, Betsy fogs her father in the arm.

"Ow! Hyde, I told you not to teach her that!"

"Whatever," Hyde mumbles back before taking another drink of beer.

"Jackie's more than Jugs A Poppin'," Fez tells the whole group. "She's like a goddess of pregnancy. Her round belly and those luscious breas – "

Without a word from her godfather, Betsy leans over and socks her father's foreign friend in the leg.

"Hyde!" Fez cries out.

"Quit talking about Jackie," Hyde instructs.

"She was mine, too," Fez reminds her.

"Yeah," Eric interjects. "For ten days."

"Ten glorious days," Fez affirms. "Ai, I wish I could have ten more days with my goddess now. Her lusciousness is givin' me need."

This time it's Hyde who fogs the foreign man in the arm.

"Quit gettin' needs about my chick, man," Hyde snaps.

"Oh, Steven," a feminine voice blubbers and the four men turn to see Jackie standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the kitchen. Clustering around her are Donna and Brooke.

"Crap," Hyde mumbles at the sight of tears rolling down her face. Not even twenty weeks pregnant and Jackie's been even more of a hormonal mess than usual, which sucks considering her tears are like his kryptonite. She's back sitting in his lap before he can blink; her arms wrapped around his neck. She blubbering into his ear about him calling her his chick and how she knows that means he loves her.

And then she's kissing him, pressing her rounded belly into him, and he can barely make out Fez whining about them giving him needs.

"No making out in the circle," everyone including Betsy yells at them, chucking empty beer cans are the couple.

The couple barely breaks apart when they hear Kitty's voice over the rest of the party upstairs starting the countdown. Their friends hurry up the stairs to rejoin the party; Donna picking up a still sleeping Luke because Eric's not strong enough to lift the two-year-old. Jackie makes no move to stand up and instead moves to rest her head on her husband's shoulder.

"Six!" The party upstairs carries out the countdown.

"Let's stay here," Jackie says softly moving one arm from around his neck to rest her hand on her small belly. Hyde doesn't respond to her wish verbally, just remains sitting in his chair.

"Five!"

"Steven?"

"Four!"

"Are you excited about 1990? We'll have a baby; we'll be parents."

"Three!"

"No worse than bowling," he tells her because he doesn't hate bowling and he doesn't hate the idea of becoming a dad. She furrows her eyebrows in confusion (she's never understood that response of his) and hesitates in her reply.

"Two!"

He sighs and places his hand on top of hers.

"You're my chick," he reminds her. "That's my baby."

"And," she prompts.

"One!"

"Don't make me say it," he groans.

"Steven," she warns.

"Happy New Year!" Their friends and family upstairs cry out. She turns her attention to glance over her shoulder back up the stairs to where everyone else is.

"I love you," he tells her softly. She whips her head back around so quickly that he's pretty sure she's going to get whiplash with the biggest grin on her face. "Happy New Year, doll."


	6. 1990

**Title:** Fatherhood

**Chapter Title:** 1990

**Words:** 2, 472

**Fandom:** That '70's Show

**Coupling:** Jackie/Hyde

**Rating:** T/PG-13

**Author's Note:** I'm really sorry about my lengthy delay in updates. Calculus made me its bitch for the last month and a half. But this chapter is much longer than previous chapters so I hope that makes up for the delay. Also, I'm marking this story complete. For now. There might be more updates later on, but I don't want to get people's hopes up.

"Jackie, turn that crap off," he snaps at her before going back to counting the cash in hand. He's perched on a stool behind the registrar trying to get through closing, and she's interrupting his mental count playing the obnoxious sounds of ABBA over the store's speakers.

"_You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen…"_

"The baby likes it," she retorts as she flicks through a collection of tapes. With a sigh, she walks (actually, more like waddles) over to the counter.

"Steven, aren't you done yet?" She whines loudly causing him to lose count of the cash in his hand.

"No," he tells her sharply. She crosses her arms over her expanded belly and glares at him. She doesn't like his tone, doesn't like how snappy he's being with her.

"Just turn that crap off and sit over there," he instructs, gesturing to the ratty blue couch sitting in the middle of the store. "I'll be done in a minute."

"Fine," she snaps back. "But you have to take me to The Vineyard."

"You said you wanted to go to The Hub."

"That was twenty minutes ago," she replies as though he's not thinking clearly, as though it should be obvious that she would change her mind in twenty minutes.

"Yeah, no," he replies. "You already used up your Vineyard quota for the year."

"But Steven," she whines while rubbing her back. She's been having back pain since early this morning, and she wishes the baby would move out of her back and find somewhere else to kick. A month ago, when the baby was settled up high by her lungs, she could barely breathe. But this pain is quickly becoming worse than that experience.

"Listen, doll," he says in the hopes of reasoning with her, "just sit down and I'll take you to get a burger wrapped in a shiny piece of tinfoil as soon as I'm done with this."

He doesn't wait for her reaction, just returns to counting the cash in the register for the umpteenth time.

"I want a milkshake too," she replies.

"Fine," he agrees without lifting his head to look at her. Massaging her back, she steps away from the counter and heads towards the store's record player to turn off the music. She only gets halfway there when she feels the distinct trickle of liquid rolling down her legs. She lets out a whimper in mortification as the wet spot on her jeans grows in size and a small puddle forms underneath her. There's nothing to wrap around her waist and hide the wet spot, and Jackie has no idea where Steven keeps paper towels to clean up messes.

"Steven," she says softly.

"Jackie," he snaps in frustration until his eyes settle on the wet spot. With a trace of disbelief and laughter, he asks "Did you just piss your pants?".

"Shut up!" She growls.

He can't help but laugh as he walks off to the bathroom to get something to clean it up with.

"Here," he says as he hands her some crumpled paper towels. She glances from his offering to the puddle on the floor and burst out in tears. "What?"

"I can't…I can't bend down," she wails. "And…and my back hurts."

"What hurts?" He asks because he really could not understand her over her blubbering.

"My back," she wails louder.

"How long?" His alarm concerns her because he's the only one that actually read _What to Expect When Your Expecting_ (a gift from Donna and Eric).

"This…this morning."

Without a word he thrusts the wad of paper towels into her hand, grabs her upper arm, and starts tugging her towards the door.

"Where are we going?" She whines as they walk to the door. Her thighs are sticky with urine, and she just feels downright disgusting.

"Hospital," he replies. She tries to protest, tries to wriggle out of his grip as he locks up the store and pulls her towards the El Camino.

"No, Steven," she snaps. "I can't go with…pee…all over my pants."

"Jackie, that's not piss," he tells her sharply. "Your water broke."

"And there's the head," the doctor says with a smile from her place between Jackie's legs. "Next contraction and I think we'll have a baby!"

She looks absolutely relieved as her head sinks down onto the pillow. Sweat from over thirteen hours of labor has plastered her normally silky hair to her head. She is absolutely exhausted and whimpers as the next contraction hits because she doesn't have enough energy to scream or yell or grunt.

Not too tired, though, because she squeezes the shit out of his hand.

"Take a look, Steven," Dr. Albright says, and he glances down before he can help himself. He told himself after watching that movie – the one Kelso tried to warn him about – for Mrs. Forman's baby class that he was not to look under any terms. After all, he'd like to be able to have sex with his chick after this, even if she did say he has to wear a condom every single time from this point forward.

But he looks, watches in amazement as this gooey, reddish thing with a malformed head slides out and then gets unceremoniously dumped on the towels someone (a nurse?) has thrown across Jackie's belly when he wasn't looking. His eyes dart from the mass of flailing limbs to his wife's face, watch her melt into tears and blubbering and repeating the same sentiment over and over again.

"…so beautiful...so beautiful…"

"Come cut the cord, Daddy," the doctor instructs and someone (a nurse?) slaps something cool and metallic in his hands.

"Uh," he stumbles, searching for the words as he watches Jackie clutch the baby closer and cry harder. He hasn't exactly decided if he wants to do this yet, but the doctor's not really leaving him much of a choice and guides his hand holding the scissors to the place between two clamps.

"Right here," she says gently. He cuts it quickly, barely concentrating on the task at hand. He's too busy watching the baby – _his_ baby – be picked up and carried across the room.

"Where is…" he starts to ask. His question is for both of them as the question is reflected in his wife's eyes.

"Just taking the baby to be weighed and measured. They'll be right back," the nurse says from her place on the other side of the bed. He glances at her and then at his wife, who's watching the baby be carried out the door with such intensity and concern, and then at the woman pushing the plastic bassinet holding his baby out of the room.

"We still have to deliver the placenta," Dr. Albright says without looking up from her view of the space between Jackie's legs. "You can go with them if you'd like, Steven."

He looks away from the opened door to the doctor to Jackie. He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know if he should stay with her until the very end of this whole bloody affair or go with the baby. And then there's Mr. and Mrs. Forman and Eric and Donna and Leo and everyone else out in the waiting room waiting to hear some news.

"Go," Jackie says. Her voice is raw from all the screaming and the crying and the whimpering and the cooing over the baby, and he hesitates because he doesn't want to leave her to finish this all alone.

"Go," she says louder and harder this time. He plants a quick kiss on her lips before stumbling out into the hallway. The nurse is wheeling the baby around the corner down the hall, and he starts to follow her but only gets halfway down the hallway when Mrs. Forman's voice cuts him down.

"Steven!"

He turns to his left to see Mrs. Forman and Donna and Brooke and Eric and everyone rushing towards him. Everyone crowds around him except Red, who stands off to the side with his arms folded across his chest.

"Is the baby here?" Mrs. Forman asks excitedly with everyone around her staring at him expectantly, excitedly.

"Uh, yeah," is his mumbled reply.

"Well," Donna prompts.

"Huh?" He asks as he cranes his neck around the group to see exactly where the damn nurse went.

"Boy or girl?" Donna asks.

"Uh," he starts to say. Pauses. He didn't actually hear that part. Everyone's smiles fall in concern.

"It's a her-man!" Kelso shouts excitedly before Brooke throws him a look that immediately wipes that large grin off his face.

"Steven, is the baby okay?" Brooke asks softly, gently.

"And Jackie?" Mrs. Forman asks quickly.

"Fine," Hyde replies forcefully. "They're both fine."

"Oh, thank god," Mrs. Forman replies before letting out her trademark laugh. "So, boy or girl?"

"I…I didn't quite hear…the part," he mumbles.

"Dumbass!" Red shouts from the fringes of the group clustered around him.

"Are you high?" Eric asks with mocking concern.

After twenty or so minutes, he manages to extradite himself from the group and heads back into Jackie's room. He lost sight of the baby, has no idea where it might be. So he's kind of taken aback when he sees her sitting up in bed and holding a blanketed mass in her arms. Her hair is still plastered to her forehead, there are dark bags under her eyes, and she's not wearing any make-up.

He's staring at her so intently that her smile falters. She would run her fingers through her hair or apply some make-up or do something to make herself look better, but the baby in her arms impedes her efforts.

"I must look terrible," she concedes.

"No," he replies. "You look beautiful."

The smile returns to her face. The baby mewls and a tiny fist pops out of the blanket attracting both his and her attention.

"Hi, baby," Jackie whispers with a look of complete awe and adoration on her face. She glances from the babe in her arms to the man standing across the room.

"Steven, come over here."

"Uh," he stalls.

"Come here," she snaps at him, and he follows like some kind of whipped puppy. (He's not whipped, he'll tell you, but Jackie knows she's got this man almost entirely wrapped around her pinky.) She peels back the blanket so he can get a good look at the baby's face.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Jackie asks.

"She?" He echoes, and Jackie looks are him quizzically because she doesn't understand how he's gone all this time without registering the doctor's announcement of "It's a girl!".

"Are you high?" She asks sharply, echoing Eric's early question.

"No," he barks back because he's not. Hasn't touched the stuff in a couple of months after she told him the smell made her sick.

"How did you not hear…" She starts to ask but stops because the baby waves her fist in her mother's face. He waits until she's looking at the baby before commenting.

"She… I mean, Tiffany looks like you," he tells her softly and she glances up at him.

"Tiffany?"

"Isn't that the name you picked?" He asks, the confusion etched into his voice. He's pretty sure that was the one she picked out for a girl but, admittedly, he doesn't always listen to what she says.

"No," she replies with a shake of her head. "I mean, yes. But…"

"But what?"

"I've changed my mind."

"We're _not_ naming her Princess," he snaps with emphasis on the no.

"That was a joke, Steven," she reminds him with a trace of annoyance in her voice. The baby wiggles in her arms.

"Here," she says trying to transfer the baby to him.

"Uh," he stumbles stepping away from her and the baby. "That's okay. You can hold her."

"Steven," she growls.

"Look," he replies trying to deflect her attention from him to the squirming babe in arms. "She's happy with you."

"Puddin', she wants her daddy to hold her."

Daddy? The word sends him into a mild panic. It was so terrifying when the baby was in Jackie's belly and kind of ambiguous thing. But now _his daughter_ is here and all of sudden he's scared shitless.

"Steven," Jackie snaps trying to get his attention. "Just do what we learned in that class."

He stutters trying to think of some excuse when all of the sudden this squirming mass in deposited in his arms. He's looks frantically from Jackie to the baby and back again.

"Why are you cryin'?" He asks her. She frantically tries to wipe away the tears now pooling in her eyes and spilling down her face. "Doll, why are you cryin'?"

"You just look so…_hiccup_… good together and…_hiccup_…you love her…and she's…_hiccup_…here. And I never…_hiccup_…thought we'd be parents."

"Told you not to worry 'bout it happening, doll," he replies before glancing back at the baby in his arms. There's this surge of protectiveness that courses through him, and he's realizing that Jackie's right – he does love her. Already. Completely.

A quiet moment passes over them. He's locked eyes with his daughter, and his wife is staring at him intently.

"Stephanie," Jackie tells him softly.

"Huh?"

"Stephanie," she replies. "Her name is Stephanie."

"Jacks, we went over this," he reminds her forcefully. "I told you I didn't want our kid named after me and my bastard stepfather."

"Puddin' Pop, I'm named after my daddy," she reminds him. "You're named after the man you thought was your dad. I want our daughter to be named after her daddy."

"Jackie, our dads were crap."

"But you won't be," she assures him.

"Come on. What's wrong with Tiffany or, um, Layla?" She shakes her head no at each of his suggestions. "How 'bout Page after Jimmy Page?"

"No," she snaps at him. "I love you, Steven, and I want Stephanie to be named after the best man in the world."

He diverts his gaze at her complement because he doesn't really feel like the best man in the world. He's done a lot of shit in his life: stolen, cheated, lied, broken Jackie's heart more than once.

"And I just gave birth so her name is Stephanie."

"Jacki…"

His rebuttal is interrupted by the door to Jackie's room flying open and their family and friends spill into room.

"Boy or girl?" Mrs. Forman asks excitedly.

"Girl," Jackie replies as he deposits the baby back into her arms.

"Oh, she's beautiful," Mrs. Forman says as she catches her first glimpse of the baby. She plucks the baby right out of Jackie's arms and proceeds to show off her newest grandchild to Red.

"What's her name?" Donna asks after she gives Jackie a tender, congratulatory hug. Jackie looks at him expectantly and everyone's eyes shift towards him.

"Stephanie," he concedes. "Her name's Stephanie."


End file.
